


Puma And Cage's World Famous Rematch

by Fantasticly_Anonymous



Series: Lucha Underground: Prince Puma and Johnny Mundo's World Famous Friendship [8]
Category: Lucha Underground
Genre: American Sign Language, Apologies, Boyle Heights Street Fight, Conflict Resolution, Español | Spanish, Fluff and Angst, Friends To..., Gen, Konnan Cares, Lunch, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pre-Slash, Some Humor, Some Protectiveness, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Worry, Wrestling, tai chi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-13 14:51:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11762235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fantasticly_Anonymous/pseuds/Fantasticly_Anonymous
Summary: It looks like Puma is still in need of a little help getting ready for his Boyle Heights Street Fight against the Machine known as Cage. Even though it's the day of the match! Will the frazzled, distracted, Luchador be prepared when the time comes to kick some major butt?Konnan the Barbarian and Johnny Mundo are there to keep him sane and safe. Up until the bell anyway.Rated T for some rude language and a little Lucha Libre!





	Puma And Cage's World Famous Rematch

**Author's Note:**

> Well, anyone ready for the conclusion of this sad, sad tale of tragic events and unfortunate miscommunications?  
> If the answer is yes, please do read starting directly below.

The day of the fight, Johnny didn't bother with a disguise. Sure, people at the Temple hadn't recognized him in it last time, but whoever had decided he shouldn't attend the fight _had_.  
'Sides, he was gonna be kickin' it with the cool kids this evening _anyway_. He didn't need to blend in with the crowd.

All he needed to do was keep a weather eye on his three, six, and nine and keep moving. He stopped for water in the park and smiled at the sight of children playing in the modestly sized play gym. A parent sitting nearby, keeping tabs and making sure no one _roared_ loudly enough to disturb the nearby residents.  
Heh. Must've been into the discovery channel.

Johnny made it inside the Temple, unmolested and unthreatened, all of seven seconds before he heard Konnan curse under his breath at needing to pull out his Lucha ID 'every single time!'.  
He waited for the coach to get through and stow his card in his bulky bag before waiving. "Buenas días, je- boss." He received an unimpressed eyebrow raise for his troubles. "What are you doing here so early? The fights don't start until-"

"I _always_ get here early anytime my fighter's on the card." Johnny's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Gotta make sure no funny business goes down between now and when Prince Puma takes the ring in the main event."

"Security's right over there. Don't they do a good enough job?" This time he got a half lidded look positively _dripping_ in 'really?'

"They check IDs. I check turnbuckles, ropes, lockers, el baño, under the seats in the first and last rows," Konnan seemed to cut himself off, perhaps not wanting to give away secrets of the paranoid coach trade. Then his eyes narrowed and he stopped his progress through the main hall. The better to 'look' Mundo in the face.  
"What're _you_ doing here this early? You don't have a fight on the books."

"Uh," Johnny fought against an unexpected taughtness in his stomach at the pointed question. "I told Puma I'd be here. For the fight. Rooting for him." He broke eye contact with the veteran ring warrior and gazed at the ring, unlit and kinda dusty. "I wasn't taking any chances today. So," he looked back at the coach, who had also been eyeing the ring, though with a very different expression, "here I am! Oh, I can help you with-"

"No. No way; I do this part of my job _alone_." The edge to Konnan's eyes softened some at the disappointment obvious in Johnny's drooping shoulders. His voice also shifted some.  
"If you wanna stick around and make yourself useful," the coach had to hold back a smirk at the comical perk the long haired Luchador didn't know he was doing, "you can make sure the milk in the 'fridge' hasn't turned, and check the first aid closet for ice packs that _aren't_ past expiration. Might come in handy, after Puma lays the beat on that Machine."

"On it, boss."

 

The day of the fight, Puma felt the nerves starting up like they hadn't since his first day at the Temple. If he held his hand straight out he could almost _see_ the shaking of adrenalin and... He wished Konnan, his sparring partner, and he had some sort of practice session scheduled today.  
He knew trading blows wasn't a good way to prep for a Street Fight, day of, but the Champ was feeling like a rookie coming in for his first bout in front of real people. 

Not able to take the stress a minute longer, he grabbed his duffel and made for the Temple about the time he did most days; _way_ too early for someone who had the Main Event slot for the night.  
He got sidetracked on the way there by a pushcart of shaved ice and the nice older gentleman in the awesome hat pushing it.  
Crunching his cherry vanilla icy confection, with _extra_ condensed milk happily drizzled on by a rather entertained looking server, he sat on a park bench and managed to forget all about why it was he was even outside today.

About halfway to the bottom of his cup of heaven, he heard the patter of tiny, sneakered feet traveling in a strangely _his_ direction.

"'Scuse me, Mister," came a high pitched call for attention. To which Puma wrenched his very shaved ice focused faculties.  
"Is yours cherry with vainilla?" 

Puma nodded at a barely over three foot tall youngster who happened to be holding a cup identical to his in a hand less than half the size.

"Did you get leche dulce on top?"

Puma nodded again, tipping his cup in the kid's direction just enough that the colorful contents were visible.

"Carmelo?!" 

Both heads turned to seek out the caller, catching sight of the pushcart and ice magician halfway across the park, being handed money by someone who seemed to be _wearing_ a toddler around their chest. A second barely not toddler clutching one of the adult's pant legs or a styrofoam cup in each tiny mit. 

"I was right, Papi!" Responded the child- Carmelo with enough sudden volume that Puma flinched.  
The awesome hatted gentleman and his pushcart revitalized their momentum through the park as the person laden down with children trying not to spill their hand shaved ice treats started off towards the bench where child number three was setting down his cup. With great care, first making sure their were 'no ormigas'.  
"I like your Prince Puma mask," said a Carmelo who was peering and reaching behind himself. Preoccupied enough that he missed the surprised expression Puma's face made at being recognized.  
Out from what must have been either a pant-band or a rear pocket, the child pulled a little yellow sack, which he held up and unfurled. Revealing that it was also covered in red dots.  
"I'm not 'sposed to wear mine when I eat. You got lots of practice with yours, huh?"

Puma nodded, a little smile showing off his slightly red stained front teeth. The kid smiled back, showing off his _missing_ front teeth. That time, he caught Puma's surprise and giggled in response.

"Ai, Carmelo. I hope you've been using your manners with your new friend," said a friendly looking parent who was most _definitely_ wearing a diminutive child on his torso. 

"Si, Papi! And I was right; his favorite _is_ cherry y vainilla tambien! I could tell!" Said by a kid who's sugary treat must have been kicking in, considering he was now bouncing in place. Feet impressively spending more time off the ground than on.

"Calma, mi leoncito," said the papi, to good effect. Seeing as the bouncing nearly stopped but the grin stayed put. The adult then addressed the masked, duffel toting, shaved ice munching also adult on the bench. "Did he really guess it right? About the shaved ice?"

Puma, thinking that he liked the cadence of the guy's voice, nodded and repeated the tilting of the cup for inspection.

"Wow, Carmelo. Looks like you have an eye for people!"

"And shaved ice!" Said by an excited boy who had set his mask on the bench and begun slurping and chomping in turn on the chilly cup of dessert.

"Oh yes, of course," the father said, turning again to Puma. "I see Carmelo's shown off his mask. Cute, huh? A nice abuelo at the centro comunitario helped all mis niños get the details _just_ right." As he finished his sentence, two more yellow masks made themselves visible, one on a tiny child-head which popped into view from around the papi's legs.  
"Right on queue," he grinned at the antics. "You want to introduce yourself, Mascarita Amarillo?" He asked, giving the no longer hidden kiddie an encouraging nudge.

The little one came forward, about even with Carmelo, made tentative eye contact and waved. 

A dumbstruck Puma waved back. Only then having **realized** that the three masks were recreations of _his_! Done in cloth and with the hand eye coordination of small children, but... he was looking at his own private fan club. 

The even smaller than Carmelo Enmascarada in the tunic and sport pants glanced away and put a hand to her chest. Puma, worried that the child might be in need of an inhaler, glanced at the completely non-worried father, felt rather reassured, and looked back to-

Two tiny extended left hand fingers were bumped from above by the same right hand fingers. Eyes still averted, the little Luchadora held up her right hand with thumb and index touching, and the other three fingers splayed. Next she made a loose fist, thumb to the side of the fingers. Then, without pausing, she made the 'V for victory', followed by a lone pinky held aloft.

Puma's eyes went wide. Was he seeing this right?

The tiny hands then came to chest level, palms to the sky, and shook side to side just a few times. She ended off with a palm held out, facing the one she was addressing.

_"My name's Favi. What's yours?"_

Puma, world rocked, shoved his spoon into what was left of his shaved ice, and-

"Favy, you _know_ only the **real** Prince-" Carmelo's gentle rebuke was cut off as his jaw practically hit the ground. 

_"P-u-m-a,"_ the Underground Champion finally managed to finger spell. Slowly as his suddenly quick pulse would allow. For the children's benefit.

"Knew it!" A giddy Favi whispered at her older, or at least larger, brother. Who was still working at getting his mouth closed.

Having missed part of the conversation, helping the smallest, and now free standing, member of the clan slurp up some vibrant blue slush, the father looked over to see one smug, tiny masked wrestler, and two dumbfounded pescados.  
"Favi, Carmelo, and Victor here insisted on taking classes for American Sign Language after we all read that our favorite Luchador speaks it," he explained. "Favi likes teaching everyone how to spell her name, so-"

"Papi, he understood!"

"Yeah! Then he spelled _his_ name, and it's 'Puma'!" Crowed a Carmelo who looked, and sounded, as if the sugar had really dug its claws in deep. Vibrating just a little, ever so slightly blurred around the edges.

"I _knew_ he was the **real** Prince Puma. Only the **real** Puma could have such a máscara perfecta!" Favi insisted, a hand across his shoulders pulling Carmelo close enough that she didn't need to raise her voice to be heard.

"Dios mío. You couldn't possibly be the Underground Championship holder, eating a shaved ice in _our_ park," he looked between the three giddy faces of the children and his own became unsure. "Or _are_ you?"

_"I'm Puma,"_ the Champ signed, then held out his hand for a proper introduction.

"Papi!"

"He said his name is Puma!"

"He said it again!" Came a chorus of... _almost_ shrieking angels. At which, the standing man blinked rather owlishly, then took a long stride forward, bent from the waist, and shook hands with a hometown hero. 

"How do you do, Mr. Puma? I'm Paco and these are my three babies; Carmelo, Faviola, and Victor- ¡Ay, I already told you their names! Um," a bit flustered, the papi remembered to release the Luchador's hand only _after_ receiving an adorable nudge in the thigh from one of the tikes.  
"We've seen all your fights! Haven't we?" Resounding nods. But his- Paco's eyes only stayed appeased a second or two.  
"We haven't had the pleasure of catching any live though."

Puma cocked his head and pointed in the direction of the Temple, not at all _far_ from the park itself.

"We've seen the Temple, but during the day," Puma watched the guy pause for a smirk break, a soft look in the eye tempering the expression to one of fondness.  
"Mi marido, their daddy, is in law enforcement and _really_ doesn't like the idea of a single parent with three babies walking- nor bussing, Favi," Puma saw the now unmasked munchkin pull a sour face at the foiled plot. Though she did a good job of hiding it from her papi behind the cup she was busy slurping dry. Puma had the feeling that the observant Paco caught it anyway.  
"Yeah, even _I_ agree with him on that one. Most nights," said with a wry disappointment tweaking his brow. 

"Even though we're always good-"

"Daddy's always worried about us!" Carmelo thoughtfully finished for a Favi who's mouth was pretty **full** of purple stained shaved ice; all threatening to fall out if she wasn't _very_ careful.  
Puma had to applaud her technique. Impressive for one so young, and with no brain freeze to boot!

"Why Daddy no gusta Lucha?" Chimed in the youngest of the bunch, the entire blue stained bottom half of his face trembling along with his bottom lip. 

"Ay, mijo. Que he dicho? Your daddy likes Lucha Libre, but the Temple is not a place for such young Luchadores such as yourselves," explained a Paco who'd gone down on one knee, pulled a cleaning wipe from some magical 'parent supplies' realm, and proceeded to mop the majority of the chaos off his baby's face.  
Without stopping the cleanup efforts, he turned to Puma to continue. "Victor here has an earlier bed time than everyone else and so doesn't see as much of his daddy. A daddy who loves to watch the highlights of all the matches while we massage each other's feet." 

"And I put your shoes away!" Said a Carmelo who was now finished with his treat and _might_ have been trying not to eye the remainder of Puma's. The Champ brought the cup closer to his chest, just in case.

"And _I_... make the TV quiet, so Victor won't wake up!"

"That's mean!" Cried a Victor who's lip hadn't stopped trembling.

"Mijo, don't worry. Daddy has the day off tomorrow. Then you can tell him all about how you met Prince Puma in _our_ park!" Paco stood then and lobbed the thoroughly blued wipe ten feet into the nearest trash can. Nothin' but net.

All three sugared up tots suddenly looked like it'd just been announced that la Navidad was coming early. 

Shaking his head, Paco gestured to his collective flock and informed Puma that, "I told them this morning. They made the same face then too."

_"Lots of love, huh?"_ Signed a largely one handed Puma, not wanting to chance setting down his half eaten slice of heaven with a sugar fiend of Carmelo's caliber so close.

"Love? Oh yes, we all love the hardworking local police officer with the heart of gold. Don't we?" Again, a chorus rang out in agreement. It was precious.  
"Even though he _especially_ didn't want us to go see tonight's match. For secret 'safety' reasons that he wouldn't tell us about. You'd think he was scheduling a demonstration or something!" 

Pumas eyes flew wide open. He'd forgotten all about his _Championship_ match! And he was sitting on a park bench, swapping pleasantries with a local family while eating pure sugar!  
What had his life become?

"Mr. Prince Puma, Sir?" Puma did his best to school his 'I just remembered something that was giving me hardcore anxiety earlier' face to something politely interested and looked down straight into the triple team effect of Victor, Favi, and Carmelo's pleading faces.

"Please, please-"

" _Please_ -"

"Could you sign our masks?"

He smiled at that and once again, pushed thoughts of the Machine known as Cage to the ' _later_ ' part of his mind.  
Stowing his cup between his legs, he rustled around in his duffel for _just_ the thing. The kids gasped in excitement when the perfect tool flashed in the morning sun: a black, multipurpose marker! Works on fabrics!

One by one, the children handed him a Lucha Libre mask styled after his own, love apparent in the stitches, and looked on with reverence and a post shaved ice jitter as one of their idols scribbled with a permanent marker on their handmade art pieces.  
He made sure the crown looked perfect on each one before handing it back, then, as the young ones inspected his penmanship, he gestured toward the grownup with the hands hidden in his own pockets.

"Hm? Me? Oh, I... I couldn't-"

"Papi!"

"Don't be shy! Prince Puma's super nice!" Said a Carmelo who'd just done his best to wipe all tasty remnants from his mouth and was busy shoving his freshly signed mask in place over his face.  
Favi'd somehow already gotten hers on and was helping Victor with his.

"Well... if you're sure-" Puma insisted with a happy nod. "I'd be honored, if you could sign _my_ Prince Puma mask!" Said a papi who seemed to be having trouble regulating his volume, even though it didn't look like he'd had any dessert.

Puma accepted and signed a mask, gingerly pulled from a back pocket, that was about the size of his own and smiled at his adorable fan club. The kind he'd never thought might exist.

"Papi," intoned a well put together Luchadora, "I think Prince Puma's busy por el resto de día. Right, Mr. Puma?" 

The Champ, who hadn't known how he was going to excuse himself, stood from the bench with a thankful nod to Favi. Duffel over one shoulder and cup of corn-syrup, food coloring, and melting shaved ice in his off hand.

"What do we say?"

Puma was practically floored once more as three tiny, tiny, and tiniest hands touched correspondingly tiny chins then moved away and down in a chorus of _"Thank you,"_ s.  
Then the children broke off in a sprint for the jungle gym a _ways_ off, nary a backwards glance spared. Puma had to chuckle at that.

"Masks off before you hit the sand!" Reminded the thoughtful parent, looking pleased when the bouncing yellow heads reverted to their natural brunet.

Paco turned back to a Luchador who also found great amusement in the- Was that a cartwheel?! Those kids had some _skills_!  
"I better go referee this free-for-all. _Thank you_ so much, Mr. Puma. They'll remember this for the rest of their lives," the dad looked just a little self conscious over his shaky execution for the signed part of the thank you, but Puma couldn't have cared less about it being shaky or not.  
People were talking _his_ language at him! That only ever happened at the Temple, and even then it was really only Drago and a teensy bit from-

He needed to get _going_! He could feel the nerves returning.

He gave a big thumbs up with his free hand, hoping Paco understood his appreciation, and stood in place just long enough to see the guy smile and begin his jog to the play equipment now _crawling_ with overexcited children.

As Puma started off for the Temple for the second time that morning, spoon full of cherry vanilla slush halfway to his mouth, he thought he heard an entertained, "Rafa's never gonna believe this!"

 

Johnny'd checked and double checked the milk in the fridge, and separated by expiration date everything in the first aid supply closet -nearly _half_ of the paraphernalia in there was in need of replacing-, and written a note to Dario Cueto requesting an upgrade to the few amenities he offered the fighters, by the time he saw Konnan again. By the looks of it, the coach had been over every inch of the main hall and under every chair, if the dust, sweat, and huffing were anything to go by.

"Alright, boss. Anything else I can-"

Just then, the sound of some decidedly bouncy strides caught their attention, and the two turned to see a Puma stuffing his Lucha ID into a small duffel, making quick work of eating up the space between security and where Johnny'd found Konnan; staring at the ring.

_"What're you..."_ all of the question Johnny caught.

"I could ask you the same thing, Campeón," said a suddenly refreshed Konnan. "Your fight's not till- espera un segundo," he said, squinting and drawing close to the happily grinning Puma. "You get into a fight on the way here? Tu dientes están sangrientos."

_Bloody?!_ Johnny came forward and his eyes about bulged when he caught sight of the red staining those teeth. And lips, if you looked closely, but not so much the mask; so the Champ probably hadn't been spitting any. Meant it likely wasn't as bad as it could be.

Johnny saw the smile disappear from Puma's face at the sudden accusation and close scrutiny, but it returned full force before either he or Konnan had a chance to worry _too_ much.

_"No..."_ Well, Johnny just hoped Konnan was up to translating. Because, hard as he tried, he couldn't keep up with the smooth explanation... or excuse, or ' _happy birthday_ ' for all he could tell.  
He _really_ needed to learn more ASL.

"Uh-huh. So, no fight; just food coloring from a snow cone?" Puma indicated 'yes'. "Mijo, how many times I tell you, 'never get distracted on the way in'? Especially the day of an important bout?! What if some thug-"

"Was it tasty?" Johnny interjected, knowing _he_ wouldn't want to be yell lectured by a Barbarian this early in a day as weighty as the one they found themselves poised to tackle.

Puma's confused disappointment melted away as he shifted his attention and showed off his usually pearly whites in Johnny's direction.  
The Champ brought a pretty much splayed hand to the side of his own mouth, middle finger and thumb tips pressed together, then came away in a bit of a swing up and out to the side.

"Yeah, 'delicious' or not, at least rinse your mouth out. You don't got time for cavities," reprimanded a Konnan who'd taken up a pretty relaxed posture for nearly biting his protégé's head off mere seconds ago. "That Máquina ain't winning on account of a toothache."

Puma's happiness seemed to evaporate at the last sentence. Mouth becoming a tight line and eyes darting around the cavernous hall, as if worried that Cage might be there already. Waiting.

The difference a second could make. Johnny was concerned for Puma, wondering whether his current unease was the true reason for his coming in as early as he had. If so, had he gotten a full night of sleep? What about-

"You eat breakfast this morning?" Konnan took the thought right out of his head. It sounded a _lot_ more in place being asked by the coach anyway.

The younger Luchador seemed to put _effort_ into yanking his attention back before rolling his eyes and making a 'duh' gesture.

"Yeah, yeah. You don't want me 'micromanaging' your life, don't act like you need it," said Konnan, sounding very much like he was continuing an old conversation.

A 'next subject' look on his face, the Champ indicated an obviously 'gym' direction and raised a closed hand in front of his chest, parallel to the ground, index extended, then ran the fisted remaining hand back and forth over the finger. Huh.

"No. You know there's no practice the day of a- Don't give me that look! That's just the way it _is_."

Puma, 'look' still stuck on his masked face, rubbed a flat palm against his chest in a little circle. _Right!_ He'd taught that one to Johnny!  
_"Please,"_ and the rest lost him. Looked like a colloquial gesture for 'crazy' was mixed in there, with the one finger making a swirl next to the head, but other than that...

"Maybe you should have stayed home and _relaxed_ then! If you're so-" Konnan, cutting _himself_ off for a change, flicked his attention over to a befuddled looking, "Mundo,"

"Uh, yeah, boss?"

"Take Puma back there and put him through a long form. I got a lot of _things_ to do and only until they start lettin' people in to do 'em." 

"Wh-"

"Don't ask questions; just do it! This kid ain't touching a weight nor a wrestling ring until they call for main event tonight. ¿Entender?"

"Yeah, got it b-"

"And stop calling me that! I don't run y-"

"Alright. On the job! See ya later, Konnan!" Johnny called over his shoulder as he led a reticent Puma by one wrist through the Temple to the locker room to drop off his duffel and yellow hoodie, then to the deserted gym. 

 

Puma was looking tense. Distracted. Maybe even nervous. Very unlike what Johnny'd grown accustomed to seeing of the Luchador before or after a fight, regardless as to whether it happened to be a main event spot.

"You cool with this? We could just take a break or-" he stopped at the firm nod and shake, assured that Puma wanted to give the exercise a go.  
"Cool..." He said, rubbing his hands together. "Well, this usually starts with some stretching- Yeah, that's what we'll do." So he took them through some basic stretches and got them to the Center Of The Universe without a hitch. His student being pretty quiet throughout for... being Puma. Even at the Stopping Thirty Horses stretch. Not even a snicker. Poor guy must've been pretty distracted.  
Time to pull out a little of what many uninitiated might call the 'boring part'.

He turned to face his student, still standing at The Center, and made sure he had his attention before saying, "Now, we close our eyes and breathe." _That_ got a reaction. Though, little more than an eyebrow raise and Puma's eyes were shut.  
"Don't force it. Just feel your diaphragm expand... and contract." He let it go at that for at least half a minute, closing his eyes himself and trusting the fighter across from him not to sneak off and leave him talking to an empty room.  
Like some sorta weirdo.

"Still breathing, we wiggle our toes; becoming aware of our feet, feeling their connection to the earth below us." He could _hear_ Puma's steady 'totally not forcing it' attempt at centering. And wiggling his toes. So he took a relaxed breath, hopefully showing his tense student how it's done, and moved on. "Now we become aware of our knees, giving them a gentle jiggle." The slight swish of pant material informing him when the Champ got the idea of how that was supposed to work.  
"Our hips next. Without moving our upper bodies, we circle the hips slowly clockwise... then counterclockwise; feeling the balance of our posture and becoming aware of our middle."

Johnny knew the patter could get old, but the repetition could also be soothing, so he kept at it. Moving them through the hands, arms and shoulders, neck and, "Now, we stand straight, mindful of the limitless universe and vibrant sky above us, and tap the top of our head with one hand; becoming aware of the top of our head and its connection to those forces. Finally, aware of our entire body, we relax and consciously allow the energies of the sky and of the earth to flow through us... feel them if you can... Stay there a while."

Johnny knew that that was a lot to expect someone fresh to it to... appreciate, but the way Puma'd looked out in the main hall? He could use some hardcore, disciplined relaxation.  
Hm. Konnan must've had the same thought. Still a genio-

Johnny the 'Instructor' Mundo's eyes slammed open as he realized that this was the first time Konnan had ever _allowed_ the two of them an unsupervised practice. Let alone **told** Mundo to take charge and lead Puma through _anything_ without being there himself, watching.  
Had he somehow managed to gain the coach's... trust? He could feel his eyes starting to sting at the thought.

Thankfully, he remembered what it was he was tasked with doing and refocused on the Luchador standing only a double arm's length in front of him, a look of concentration betraying the fighter's lack of true understanding of the exercise. That was fine though. Not all that many got it the first time.

"This," he spoke softly, so as not to jar anything the Prince may have had going, "is the center of the universe." He watched the face across from his take that in, cogitation obvious in the little, barely visible, eyebrow scrunch.  
"Now, we step out."

Johnny ran his 'student' through an entire long form without starting over. Probably- No- _Definitely_ because Konnan wasn't there to see Puma tripping over himself that one time, nor hear the sparse huffs of laughter at form names he'd never heard before.  
He was almost concerned over how little mirth the guy was displaying. In all honesty, he'd expected them to have to give it up part way and instead discuss Tai Chi philosophy. On account of all the giggling. 

When the form hit its end, the Prince, seemingly ready for _more_ , looked to Johnny for what came next.  
Knowing what an overactive worry center could feel like, the Mundo moved closer and indicated the padded floor.

"Wanna sit?" 

Puma cocked his head and gave a shrug, looking as if sitting still was _exactly_ the kind of thing he'd rather **avoid**.

"C'mon," Johnny chided, taking a cross legged seat, "it'll be... interesting."

Well, with an explanation like that, he had the Luchador sitting and making a 'what now' face right at him.

"Now, we close our eyes," he waited for the other fighter to do so before continuing, "and just _be_ here."

Puma's shoulders hitched and dropped at the anticlimactic words. His eyes only half opened though, so it looked like he wasn't rejecting the notion outright.

"Yeah, sounds kinda funky, but... Let's give it a shot?" Johnny closed his own eyes at the nod and settled his heart and lungs to their resting pace. Feeling a sense of contentment at having another close for what, to him, was usually a solitary exercise. 

The corners of Johnny's mouth quirked at the sound of his- Puma finally achieving his own center. Then, bobbing on the surface of a long practiced restfulness until he was sure the Enmascarada was staying there, he allowed himself to follow suit.

 

"What are you two extraños doing?" Came a forceful call that startled both Lichadores from a place of deep calm. "Whatever; it's time for lunch, so get your butts off the floor."

"Coming!" Johnny called after a coach who had no apparent interest in waiting around for them.  
He looked to Puma, still sitting not more than an arm's length from him, looking completely different than the Luchador who'd followed him in there... _how_ long had they been sitting there?  
Wait! It was lunch time! Already?

Puma seemed to come to the same conclusion and pinned his sparring partner with a firm, questioning gaze.

"Don't look at me. It usually takes practice to be able to hold it that lon-" both looked down at a sudden growling noise, relieved to find that it was just a hungry belly making itself known.  
Johnny looked back up to the Prince and pulled a sardonic smirk. "You didn't really eat breakfast. Did you?"

_"Don't tell Konnan!"_ Came a desperate plea, accompanied by a tinge of pink peeking below the fighter's mask.

"I'm no tattle," swore a Johnny whose smile hadn't shrunk. "But you're eating lunch whether you like it or not."

Puma nodded and crossed his heart, all while springing to his feet and offering a hand up to the guy who'd promised not to get him in trouble.  
Johnny accepted the hand and half-jogged to keep up with the Prince nearly tripping over himself to get to the cantina before Konnan could blow a gasket. 

Skidding to a stop behind Puma, right inside the little break room, Johnny was hit by a sight he _definitely_ hadn't been expecting: Tupperware. Set out on the table, with plates and utensils scattered around. Being popped open by a Barbarian who'd leaned his cane against the table edge to better use both hands.  
Was that carne asada? It smelled like heaven either way. 

As the coach used big wooden serving implements to dole out rice that looked to have chunks of tomato seared into it, refried beans of a tantalizing brown, and- yep; carne asada with _lots_ of onions, Johnny found his voice.

"Did you _cook_ all this?" 

The wonder not lost on Konnan, the mentor spoke with less derision than the gringo'd come to expect of an answer to one of his questions. "My fighter doesn't eat _anything_ could've been tampered with, day of a fight." He looked up long enough to give the long haired Luchador a stern stare. "You never know who- what _establishment_ could be paid off," then the coach's eyes darted to his protégé and narrowed. "We're lucky that hielo picado wasn't envenenado."

Puma averted his eyes and tried to keep the look of 'I done a bad' from the guy with the big wooden spoon. Even Johnny understood that Konnan was just worried and wanted his protégé to exercise more caution next time.

Konnan shoved all the Tupperwares to the middle of the table, haphazardly slinged los platos of food to eating seats, and sat rather heavily in the closest chair. Looking up when no one else moved.  
"Well? Siéntate. Before la comida freezes."

Johnny though, was having difficulty believing what he'd thought was a clerical error on his counting center's part. "Uh... _three_ plates? Konnan, is that-"

"What? You don't like pinto?" Interjected a Barbarian through a half mouthful of perfectly spiced beef.

Johnny, feeling a swelling in his breast at the thought- the _knowledge_ that Konnan had painstakingly prepared a meal with including **him** in mind... had to collect himself, the knuckles of one hand coming to his mouth, before he could sit with the big kids and pointedly _not_ cry into his rice. It was harder than it sounded. Especially when the guy in the yellow mask sitting next to him reached out a hand, hesitant though the move may have been, and patted him on the shoulder.  
He really _did_ have friends at the Temple. 

 

Puma's shock at his coach thinking he'd gotten into some sort of back alley brawl on the way to _work_ barely had a chance to dissipate before he was hit with another doozie: Konnan wanted _Johnny Mundo_ , that 'gringo loco', to take him to a deserted gym and run him through a light practice he wasn't even ' _allowed_ ' to do that day?  
Konnan hadn't left the two of them alone in a room since... well, he'd **never** left them in a private room. Not by choice anyway.

Then he was being led off by a strong, excited hand around his wrist, and before he knew it; they were standing on the precipice betwixt el mundo real, and the world Mundo fabricated out of a soothing monotony and a flowing physical routine.  
All Puma had to do, was exactly as his 'instructor' did and he was focused. Mind put to a task and not allowed to wander to... whatever it had been stressing over all morning. The funky names folks had given the different movements making him chuckle, though he tried his best to 'show some respect', as Konnan had tried and failed to get him to on a less weighty day.

It was almost jarring when it all stopped, leaving his limbs feeling restless and bereft. His mind grasping at the hem of calm as it slithered farther from his reach. Today was... a bad day to have nothing to do.

Johnny'd invited him to sit. Why? He wasn't tired, and he needed to keep moving, needed something to _do_ or he'd be- Interesting, huh? He could work with interesting.  
So he sat, cross legged, and was thoroughly underwhelmed by the next words out of Mundo's mouth. But, peeking to see the guy sitting as close as he was, with that friendly, 'no, this isn't a joke,' look on his face, Puma decided he could humor him for a while.

Trying not to let thoughts of the upcoming match and everything Cage related that'd gone down over the past few weeks overwhelm him, he kept his eyes _shut_ and... hm?  
The sound of Johnny's breathing, if he listened just right, was almost like that funny running commentary he kept up through the forms. If he synced up his own diaphragm, followed the guy's lead, maybe his mind would give it a rest?  
Yeah right. 

But, really; just sitting there with a well intentioned practice partner was getting kind of relaxing.

 

Then Konnan yelled at them from the door, yanking him from... someplace restful, pestering them about being lazy -even though _he_ was the one who didn't want Puma doing anything-, and food. Wait! Food time!? Already?  
Come to think of it, he _was_ -

*Grrrbblle*

Uh-oh. 

A Johnny who'd just found him out promised not to sign his death warrant and the two of them booked it to the cantina. Where Konnan was doing something Puma could only describe as 'highly irregular'.

His coach usually brought a baggied cold cut he'd obviously made himself and told him not to set it down between bites. In case some bastardo tried to slip something into it while he was chewing!  
Poor Barbarian must've _really_ wanted to do something nice for him. To cheer up the Champ after... Yeah.

It was touching, and reminded Puma of how relieved he was that Konnan's injury at the hands of the Machine hadn't been any more serious than it already was.  
He tried not to glance at the stitches still shining their bright reminder, as he did as he was told and took a seat!

He had to double take when he noticed that _three_ -he even double counted- places were set. All with the same portions of the same food and with, ostensibly, the same amount of care put into the serving of them. Which is to say, 'not much,' considering the rice and beans were practically on top of each other and the beef was nearly sliding off the side of the plate, but- It was akin to something out of myth. Puma'd never thought Konnan might one day treat _Johnny Mundo_ as un igual. It just plainly hadn't looked like it was in the cards.

A small noise brought his attention to the seat beside his, and the Luchador sitting in it, appearing to be at the cusp of overflow with emotions he might not know what to do with.  
Giving it a second's thought, Puma reached up with a hand which found its way to a powerful, definitely not shaking shoulder, and gave it an understanding pat.  
If Johnny'd somehow made it into _Konnan's_ good books... maybe the emotional, exceptional sparring partner slash Tai Chi instructor, was deserving of a _real_ second chance.  
Maybe it was time Puma... thought about... forgiving the Mundo. 

Well, anyway; it was _definitely_ time for chow. So the three chowed.

 

About the time Puma got laughed at by a long haired Luchador for licking his plate clean, Konnan began going over strategy and -"¡Ai, niño! ¡Modales!"- reminding him of things he'd learned and practiced with the taller sparring volunteer. 

"Recuerda, Cage weighs more than Mundo here," the coach cautioned, gesturing mildly at the fighter who'd just tried for a _third_ time to get Konnan to accept his 'compliments to the chef'.  
"He's also nastier, and, as he's demonstrated; not necessarily above hitting below the belt. If he thinks he can get away with it."

Puma, clandestinely attempting to sneak some seconds from the nearest, haphazardly _almost_ sealed Tupperware, nodded.  
He and Johnny both were paying close attention, aside from the game of sticky-fingers the full grown Champ was playing with the container of utterly delicious beef half way across the table, to everything the coach had to say.  
Good thing too, considering the guy actually pop quizzed them every few minutes to make sure.  
Brutal.

"And _why_ are you still hungry?!" The impromptu tutor snapped, causing Puma to relinquish the strip of carne he'd finally managed to pinch between two fingers and yank his hand back to his side of the table.

"Don't worry, Konnan," said Johnny, pulling the heat off the 'hand in the cookie jar' looking Champ. "Puma _definitely_ ate a nutritious, filling breakfast!" Puma tried to make his incredulous reaction invisible, but unless Konnan was ignoring him, the widening of his eyes would be patent.  
"It's just," Mundo grasped at straws, looking for a way to save his a- "It's just that Tai Chi can _really_ give you an appetite! Yep. Uh, completely normal, uh, reaction to your first long form, amigo," the Luchador said, turning some to address the masked addressee.  
"In fact, if I may be so bold," he turned back to a perplexed Konnan, "I recommend seconds. For the hungry fighter. Gotta keep the ole strength up, after a-"

"Yeah, good idea. Your gonna burn a _lot_ of calories in that ring tonight. Better stock up on safe ones mientras puedas."

A Puma who didn't need telling more than once, grabbed up his squeaky clean plate and made quick work of devouring what amounted to nearly a one to one of what he'd already put away. The other two at the table were... impressed, to say the least, and watched on with a strange fascination. Wondering just how much the younger fighter's stomach could hold.

A big, satisfied sigh filled the cantina, closely followed by the second tongue cleaning of a plate and Puma's lids drooping to half mast. He could feel a cat nap coming on. _Fast._  
In fact; he was pretty sure Konnan was talking to him right then, and that Johnny was putting a big, warm hand on one of his shoulders and saying something unimportant. Like his name. He'd have to ask about it, when he could feel his face again.

 

"Hey, Puma?" Johnny asked, putting a hand on the Luchador's slumped shoulder. "Puma?!" No. It'd been too sudden! One second the Prince had been licking the last _specks_ of perfectly prepared cow flesh from his plate; the next he was face first in the thing and **out**. What substance could have such a fast effect? How had he gotten _anything_ harmful in his syste-

"Leave him be," said a fully relaxed, if not bored, mentor from the other end of the table. "He _does_ that sometimes. S'why I don't like him eating big meals. Pero, este día, it might be a blessing."

Johnny, standing hunched over the Prince and holding a hand near his masked nose to check for healthy exhalation, straightened and retook his seat. "A food coma is a blessing?"

"It's a _nap_ , Mundo. Besides, you saw how stressed he was. Some sleep'll prolly do him some good," the coach said. The while eyeing his protégé and wondering whether the kid had gotten any sleep the night before.

Johnny followed Konnan's gaze and joined in. Eventually coming to the conclusion that they were _both_ being creepers, he turned to the Barbarian to ask, "Should we... move him?" He got a scoff for that.

"Naw. Kid's young; falls asleep in the damnedest places. Never complains about wood needing to be softer." He then pointed at the mask mashed into the 'clean' piece of dishware. "Get the plate? We'll do some dishes."

"On it," Johnny said, standing back up to put a gentle hand under Puma's head and lift just enough to slip the hard melamine plata out from under. He hated the idea of just letting his friend's head lay against the _wooden_ tabletop, but figured the Lucha Libre mask was made of leather and might act as a cushion of sorts. So he set the comatose melon down in the same spot and walked the plate to the sink, where Konnan was starting to soap a sponge over a little heap of flatware and utensils.

The two washed everything, the cleanest looking plate they soaped twice, knowing exactly _why_ it looked so spotless. For the most part, not going beyond, "And this one, aaand this one, and thiiiis one-" "Shut it, Mundo.", for conversation. Checking over their shoulders frequently to be sure their charge was still slumped unconscious against the old as dirt table; not able to hear the Puma's soft breathing sounds well enough over the sound of bubbles and running water, nor the rubbing of a dishcloth, to satisfy.

"Done," proclaimed the one who'd brought the feast in to work that day. Moving on to packing the paltry leftovers into his yellow 'Welcome Baby' tote. Which Johnny eyed, wondering where a guy like Konnan could possibly have come across such a thing.  
"You got something to do, someplace to be, Mundo?" A startled Johnny was rather taken aback by the line of questioning.

"Uh, no. I'm here till the Temple _clears_ ; late night. I'm not missing that match."

"Good. That's what I wanted to hear." The coaches eyes, in the less than optimal cantina lighting, seemed to give off a... soft sort of approval, before he started again. "You watch him? And I mean, don't leave the room for un segundo, kinda 'watch'. I got stuff to do... and people to _vet_ ."

"Sure thing," said a Johnny once more surprised by being given a task Of such import. "Uh, Konnan?" 

"Yeah?" Said the coach, pausing right inside the cantina door.

"Thanks for..."

Without turning around, the Barbarian raised and waved a hand in acknowledgement. "Don't mention it. Just... be good to him."  
And Johnny was left alone with a sleeping Puma, wondering at the meaning behind that last cryptic, uncharacteristic request.  
The difference a week could make.

 

Somehow, Konnan timed his return _just_ right. Walking into the cantina just as a rested up Puma was peeling his head off the table and wiping sleep from his eyes. He gestured for a nearby Johnny to move to the 'fridge'.  
Once there, it took the somewhat zoned out Luchador a few seconds to realize what it was he was supposed to _do_ next. Turned out, sitting in a room doing nothing but listening to the occasional delicate snore and keeping an eye on the odd fighter trickling through the Temple, getting ready for their bouts or just plain getting in an extra day of practice, could put you to sleep if you weren't careful.

Johnny set a pint of milk on the table, right where a slowly waking head had been plastered for an impressive amount of time.

"Drink up, wake up. It's time to get suited up and ready." Informed the guy with a hand on the Champ's shoulder, giving it a bolstering squeeze.

Puma shook his head, though it looked like he was clearing it and not disagreeing. Then his attention lit upon the fresh milk carton sitting before him and he snatched it up and had the whole thing drained before either of the more mature people in the room could tell him to 'take it easy'.  
The Enmascarada crumpled and then tossed the carton straight into the can by the 'fridge', pumping a fist when it didn't bounce back off the growing mountain of refuse.

"Okay, órale. Locker room, stat," Konnan made sure the refreshed Puma left the room before walking out himself, Johnny barely a step behind the coach. Not sure what he might be needed for from there.  
"You planning on watching ringside? Mundo?" Konnan prompted, when it seemed Johnny hadn't understood it was him he was talking to.

"I... don't think that's my place," he murmured, managing to not bite his lip while the older man was glancing at him. "I'm hanging with the EMTs, in the medic standby room."

"Eh, egual de bien. Don't want any bodies getting in the way of all that chaos," Konnan said, free hand making a frazzled gesture. "Don't disappear without a word, entender?" Said rather under his breath.

"Yeah. I got it." Johnny assured, impressed yet again by how much the Barbarian _cared_ about his protégé.

"Bueno."

They walked into the locker room to find an energizer bunny-esque Puma half changed into his tights, hopping around trying to get his second foot through its leg.  
Staring at the animated... goings on, Konnan leaned in and whispered to Johnny, "I'mma go survey the crowd they're lettin' in. Make sure he doesn't forget to lace his boots."

Johnny nodded and found himself alone by the entrance, still staring as the Champ finally wriggled his tights onto his hips and into place. Snapping the pant band for good measure. Puma then got started on his footwear, sitting on a nearby bench and yanking one boot then the other on before starting on any lacing.  
Realizing that, one: he'd been staring for _way_ too long, and two: part of all that bouncing had to be attributable to nerves, he moved into the room and took the seat across from Puma. 

"You're... gonna cream that Machine. You know that?" He got a 'I'm tying my boots right now, but; yeah I guess,' shrug-nod combo. Could've been worse. "I'll... be sitting with Clara, Fedrico, and Gabby. We'll be cheering you on," he said, waiting for the lacing to be finished with a bow.  
Before Puma looked up, Johnny'd plucked up the resolve to set a hand on his friend's knee, hoping against hope that it wasn't _un_ welcome.

Puma looked up. 

Johnny's throat swallowed against nothing before letting him speak. But the Luchador looking him straight in the eyes beat him to it. _"Thanks, J,"_ the Prince said with his dominant hand. _"Thanks for T-a-i C-h-i practice. K... crazy... thinks... hurt myself!"_

Johnny gave Puma's knee a gentle squeeze, hoping to catch his attention and keep the Champ from getting himself too riled up. "What're friends for?" The slow in coming smile was all Johnny could have asked for.  
And then a warm hand covered the one he'd been about to retract, and he had to double take to make sure he wasn't dreaming.  
Yep. Puma's hand was _really_ pinning his in place. On the yellow covered knee where Johnny'd been happy enough not to have it shaken off.

The small smile turned bashful and a set of Puma eyes glanced down and back up, before his other hand moved back into speaking position. _"I-"_

"Oi, Mundo," and the two turned towards the locker room entrance, hands to themselves once more. "The EMTs are here. Gettin' comfy in their little hideaway; esperándote."

Johnny stood from the bench, reluctance tucked carefully under a demur grin. "Well, better not _keep_ them waiting," he said, taking a step Konnan's direction.  
He stopped at the hand on his shoulder. The same place it'd offered him strength earlier, at a table set for three.

Puma moved to just in front of Johnny and gave him a sentence carefully handcrafted with simplified signage. _"I f-o-r-g-i-v-e you, J."_ Wavering ever so slightly at Johnny's dumbfounded expression, he went on. _"You're my... friend. You're sorry. We're ok."_ Then he held out a hand, fisted and at the perfect height for a-  
*Fistbump*

Johnny wasn't sure whether to go in for a hug or start sniffling, but was saved the trouble of deciding when a testy Konnan cleared his throat from the door.

"We're all happy Johnny's here; but he's got somewhere to be, and _you've_ got a fight to prep for. Órale, niños!"

 

So the two of them hopped to it, both bolstered by the entire exchange, Konnan doing his best to hide a snicker, and in no time, Johnny found himself greeting a tense group of medical professionals. All squished into their familiar arrangement among the cushioned seating.

"Settle in kiddies. This is gonna be one _bumpy_ -ass ride."

"Amen." Rang a chorus in response to Clara's accurate, if not crude, asseveration.

Federico switched on the radio and the four swapped witty commentary while waiting through a night of epic fights for the main event: Prince Puma, Lucha Underground Champion, versus the Machine known as Cage.

 

Finally, the fighters were called to the ring, and the opening bell was rung.

 

After _minutes_ of hearing graphic, colorful descriptions of the atrocities taking place in and _around_ the ring, Gabby closed her eyes and covered one ear, Federico went green around the gills, and Clara... leaned closer to the radio.

Johnny observed the different reactions as a grim reminder that the EMTs considered Puma a friend and, like Konnan and himself, _cared_ whether the Prince was gonna need patching up.  
Well... he wasn't one-hundred percent about Clara, but he was sure none of them wished the Luchador harm. That was a comforting thought.

Matt Striker and Vampiro's descriptions of the two contenders smashing each other onto metal trash cans was especially visceral. Almost enough to get Johnny _and_ the three medics out of their seats. But the match continued as if nothing potentially life threatening had happened, so they kept where they were and just... breathed.  
Although, Gabby might've started praying around then. Not out loud or anything; just, her lips were moving a little and her free hand was worrying a cross Johnny hadn't known she wore around her neck. Must've been hidden by the uniform.

About the time Fedrico put his head practically between his knees, fingers massaging his scalp and messing up his well kept coif, Clara snapped up off the sofa and flipped the radio switch to off. A deep exhale putting a period on the action.  
Before any of the shocked listeners could launch a protest, a particularly loud roar filled the space, the crowd of believers outside far too passionate over the brutal violence for there to be a quiet place in the entire Temple.  
It took multiple seconds for the unending thrum of excitement to die back to its norm, but as it did, Clara cleared an unblocked sounding throat and spoke.

"We should be out there. I don't _care_ about 'professionalism' or 'impartiality'," the latter part said in response to Gabby's mouth opening. "Not in this instance. I care about keeping that kid _alive_ , and I'm pretty sure us sitting here worrying to death isn't gonna help. So let's move our culos somewhere we can see the fight!"

Three culos jumped off their seats in response, spurred by both Clara's impassioned 'reasoning', and another unearthly increase in the believer's decibel count.

The four of them, Federico and Gabby pausing long enough to snatch up each a fully stocked EMT duffel, half-jogged to the end of the hallway that opened to the main hall of the Temple.  
None of them had ever seen the bleachers that full. The floor was _vibrating_ with the applause and stomping, the lights up above practically flickering along.

"Prince Pumaaa!" Rang above it all, an overzealous fan not able to hold it in a moment longer.

The group stopped just inside the relatively cloistered hallway, not wanting to be told to get out of there by a stage hand or referee.  
They didn't see Puma at first. When he and Cage came into view though, they heaved a collective sigh of relief at how uninjured the Champ looked. 

"You were right, Clara," Johnny had to yell to cut through the raucous atmosphere.

"Yep," came the simple reply, the medic engrossed in studying the two monsters flipping in and out and in and out and all _around_ the ring.

He looked over at Gabby, who was covering both ears now but otherwise appeared far less stressed. Necklace back out of sight and out of mind.

Federico similarly looked as if he might keep his most recent meal down after all; his skin returning to its normal non-nauseated shade.

Johnny, glad that the others were alright, steeled himself and turned to face the ring. Picking the yellow flash of a flipping Puma out of the flurry without trouble.  
Was that how it looked when Puma leaped off the ring post? Splashing down on a larger opponent, taking them to the mat and hooking that leg _deep_ for a pin.  
It'd been a while since he'd gotten a third person perspective on- wow. That Drop Kick was **perfect**. Perfectly deadly, with every line straight and- It was a thing of beauty. Puma's technique, which _he'd_ been helping get back up to snuff, was far and above anything he'd seen from the Prince in their spars. 

Puma looked, especially executing _that_ newest devastating move, like a vengeful, feline God. Taking out righteous retribution on a Machine that'd wronged him.  
It was... Johnny almost teared up. 

 

Eventually the carnage came to an end, the winner was declared, and the few faithful who hadn't already, came to their feet, sending up a roar so powerful, Johnny thought he'd seen the rafters tremble.

Prince Puma was still the undisputed Lucha Underground World Champion. Sure, Konnan'd jumped in there at some point and bonked Cage a good one, but that was just a little payback for putting him in the hospital. Nothin' dirty there.

 

The moment the red 'on air' indicators went out, the arena was rushed by three medics, one long haired Luchador, and a Dragon-esque fighter no one had noticed until then.  
They were all friendlies heading for a **spent** Puma, so Johnny ignored them and rushed straight for his friend. His friend who'd more than managed to hold onto his title in one of the most violent Street Fights Mundo'd ever witnessed.  
The friend who'd needed all of Johnny's hard won calming and centering knowledge to get his mind off all the negative things that could have gone down in and around that ring.  
The friend who-

_"J!"_ Came an impassioned sign from a Champion who'd somehow found it in him to drag himself off the mat... and pounce into the surprised arms of his sparring partner.  
Together they tumbled to their knees and Johnny saw more than one 'star' when their heads collided. Hoping the mask offered enough padding so the already abused Prince's head wouldn't be jarred badly, he pulled his head back. Belatedly realizing that that soft smacking was the sound of their lips coming apart from... the other's.  
They'd _kissed_!? Wha- Which of them? Who? Johnny could feel the tingle but- he didn't remember having gone in for a victory kiss!  
His shock was mirrored by a Puma who seemed to be wondering all of the same things, but who _definitely_ wasn't about to slap somebody over it.  
The conclusion that it had been either a complete, happy?, accident, or the two of them working together was reached in a shared nod.  
It was cool. _They_ were cool.

Blushing, they looked around, all the screaming reminding them where they were, to find an entire team of familiar EMTs staring down at them, two of them absolutely _gawking_ , and on the other side a Drago who's **wings** were mantled wide. Completely obscuring their view of the still _cheering_ crowd.  
Since when did Drago have _wings_? And why was he smiling like tha-

_"You heart Pu-"_

" _Don't_ finish that sentence!" Johnny found his voice just in time to cut the Dragon off.

At his exclamation, Puma, who'd missed the chiding, glanced up at the perfect moment to meet eyes with a flustered Mundo. While the gaze held, Johnny began to wonder whether Drago's ridiculous teasing... might not be teasing after all. Perhaps their Dragon friend was just more perceptive than Johnny himself.  
Come to think of it; that might help explain a few things. 

"Told ya," snarked a smug sounding Clara, just as Konnan pushed past one enormous, leathery, _Dragon_ wing to find his two pains in the culos sitting on crumpled legs on the floor, still holding each other's arms.

"Campéon! Great job out there ton-"

A weird roar and the stomping approach of something massive pulled everyone's attention away from the celebration, Konnan scrambling to yank Puma to his feet before positioning himself between him and-

"Cage, you already been beat," the coach reasoned, brandishing the cane he'd already proved an effective bludgeon. "Scram while you still _have_ a head to-"

"I should've locked **you** in an armored truck, _old man_!" The Machine spat, towering himself close enough to prompt Drago moving to stand with Konnan. Stance defensive.

"What?!" Shrilled a Johnny who seemed to be the first one to process the words. 

Cage craned a bit to get the _now_ standing Mundo in his sights before grimacing. "I had to do _something_ when I heard you two were dating." The hot anger fizzled off his face some at the resounding look of question from the group of -largely- tiny people. "Gossip is _important_."

"Brian Cage?"

"What of it?!" The behemoth threw over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off the collection of 'shorties' he was facing down, and therefore being extremely surprised when a metal manacle closed around one akimbo wrist. Surprised enough that he did nothing about the other one being tethered together with it behind his back.

"By the authority of this warrant, you're under arrest. For the grand theft of one armored truck,"said the same voice that'd checked his name.

"Breaking and entering," said a second.

"And assault with the potential outcome of negligent manslaughter." The first again.

"No, that truck was in the shade!" Cage contended.

"That's why we didn't use a taser," deadpanned a fully decked out police officer, coming up to stand beside the Machine. Not at all daunted by the fact that his head barely topped the detainee's bulging trapezius.

That officer looked strangely...

"Peterson?!" 

"Hm? Oh, fancy meeting you here, Johnny Mundo. I was _hoping_ we would; have a copy of that police report right here," he said, pulling a neat fold of papers from a large front pocket. He then came forward, meeting Johnny where he'd moved, even with Konnan and Drago, and handed them over.  
"You can look it over and keep it for your personal and legal records. There are also instructions included to make pressing charges less confusing," Peterson indicated one of the sheets and Johnny nodded.

"Thanks. Thanks a bunch. Uh, where's-"

"Right here, behind this montaña!" Came another familiar voice from behind a thoroughly gobsmacked Cage. "How's it going, Mr. Mundo?"

"Fine, thanks! How 'bout yourselves?" He asked the two.

"Can't complain," said Peterson, whispering something under his breath after that sounded a lot like, " _He_ can though."

"It's been a pain! Paco and the kids were _way_ harder to convince to stay home and watch the fight on TV tonight!" Santana griped, pulling Cage around non too harshly by the wrists so he could get a good look at the guy he'd helped rescue only a couple weeks earlier.  
"Think the only reason they agreed was I promised to not answer my phone all day tomorrow."

"That's our day off," supplied Peterson, helping the group of stunned silent Luchadores, coach, and EMTs keep up.

_"Wait! Are you 'R-a-f-a'?"_ Signed a Puma who'd just swooped around one of Drago's largely furled wings to stand by Johnny.

"Did you say 'Rafa'? Only Paco calls me that," he added, directed at his partner, before looking back to the yellow clad Luchador. "You've met my..." The copper trailed off in a shocked 'I just realized who you are' fashion.

Johnny watched carefully as Puma told an animated story which he wished he could follow. Wished he could parse the words crafted by those dexterous hands , capable of brutally decimating a Machine, or gently offering comfort to a friend.  
He shook his head when he realized he was staring.

"Kid says he met tu familia this morning. He signed their masks and is impressed by all tus niños ASL," Konnan kindly translated, a stoic Drago nodding in approval.

"Well... I'm gonna be hearing every detail in quad stereo for a _while_. Thanks for treating them kindly; they're some of your biggest fans, Mr. Puma."

"He says, 'No problem. It was my pleasure.' Now," Konnan started on a new subject, "the Champ and I got paperwork to get straightened out in the boss's office that _actually_ can't wait." The Coach grabbed his protégé with a deceptively gentle hand around the bicep and led him away.

Puma, looking as if he'd remembered something _important_ turned and, walking backwards, used as much of two arms as he could to sign what felt like several sentences at Johnny before disappearing through the door of Dario Cueto's office..

"Okay, Gigante," said a Gabby who's professionalism was, once again, showing. "Look straight ahead," she said, shining a penlight into the eyes of a Machine and craning to get a good view. All the while two police officers holding the Machine's arms in case he decided to try anything... untoward. Like a Headbutt.

Next, Johnny watched with mounting anxiety as the smaller Clara walked right up to the handcuffed fighter, called him a rude name, and started inspecting his arms and back. Sometimes with rather forceful palpating. Looked like Clara was getting the desired effect in those grimaces and- oh. Right. The EMT had been listening to the fight and then _studying_ it harder than Johnny'd seen reason for for this exact reason.  
To know where to check the fighters for injury! If not, to know where to poke them to get them to squirm, but Johnny was _pretty_ sure it was the former. Mostly the former. The former in at least Puma's case.  
Clara _liked_ Puma. As far as Johnny could tell anyway.

Federico and he pretty much stood where they were and tried to ignore the raucous crowd as it started to dwindle. Folks going home for the night and attempting to not trip over discarded water bottles and half full soda cups on their way down from the hard wooden bleachers.  
After nearly a minute of watching, _praying_ that the Machine appreciated being pawed over by a fastidious couple of EMTs, Federico leaned an inconspicuous amount closer to Johnny and cleared his throat.

"It's good to see you two back together. Did the ASL come in handy?"

Johnny glanced at him, flashing an also not conspicuous, small smile and saying, "Yeah. Thanks for that. I owe you o-"

"So you _finally_ apologized, eh Tall Man?" Said a Clara Johnny hadn't realized could hear them. Not over the sound of a bustling, echoing Temple of departing faithful.

"You heard this loser," offered a Gabby who was still playing light games with said 'loser'. Six foot tall, three hundred pound, non too happy loser. "It wasn't Johnny's fau-"

"Like Puma could have known! For all he knew, this gringo blew him off and never apologized! 'Please', 'Thank You', and 'Sorry' are the magic words!"

"You're right, Clara," said a Johnny who figured it'd be good to get in a few words before things went nuclear, "and I 'Thank You' for _not_ yelling at me that time. It helped put things in persp-"

"You told Puma, didn't you?!" The only thing so far that had gotten Clara to pause or break eye contact with the bulging, beginning to bruise muscles of patient number one. Johnny got hit with a face full of worried 'you're in for it'. 

"No. I was _careful_ not to," said a Johnny who was rather proud of his accomplishment.

"Ay, he _totally_ told him!" Clara decried.

"Yeah, he looks guilty," agreed a hulking, actually rather complacent with all the attention he was getting, Cage.

"Did I ask you? No. That wasn't even a question!"

" _Breathe_ Clara. Besides," Federico chimed, "like we just heard; Johnny's no liar." He flicked a prideful look in his 'student's' direction before looking like he'd just realized he had nothing to do and sorta hiking the medic bag higher up on his shoulder to compensate.

"Psh," came a raspberry-ish declaration from the Machine. Which, strangely, reminded Johnny of just how irregular this _whole_ situation was.

"Hey, Officers?" Both turned their heads enough to let him know they were listening. "How did you know where to find... the perp?" Even Cage looked interested in that one.

"Well," started Santiago, "turns out Mr. Brian Cage's cousin works for the security company who's truck was 'borrowed'." He said it all with eyebrows raised. Made stories more interesting.

"And guess who's security card went 'missing' the day before the 'borrowing'?"

"Yeah, poor Lucinda needed to go through hoops to get a temporary issued," said Santiago, sounding less like he was kidding and more like he actually felt bad for the Machine's cousin.

"The family resemblance is uncanny," added Peterson, a faraway expression unintentionally drawing Cage's attention.

"Hey, Copper, I know Lucinda's a looker, but don't go around objectifying my relatives! 'Sides," his mouth drew into a pout, "I didn't think she'd get in trouble over it."

"Yeah, well don't get your singlet in a knot," Peterson started. "We'll get this sorted out, nice and proper." Cage almost seemed comforted by the thought.

"I guess Mr. Cueto was right when he said this'd be easier _after_ the bout. It's almost too bad they couldn't be here for it..."

"Not you too! You're the one always saying the Temple is no place for children." Peterson's super professional carapace cracked just a hair at his partner's put out droop. "Hey, day off. Remember? This story'll knock their socks off."

Santiago chuckled, readjusting his grip on Cage's arm. "Right. Then it'll be _impossible_ to keep them off the furniture."

 

Soon as Cage was given the all clear, the coppers happily escorted the Luchador on the losing end of a huge fight out of the Temple and off to a nice, cozy, downtown holding cell. A small army of Temple security surrounding _them_ to help secure the officer's safety on their way.  
All the faithful, save some lookie-loo stragglers, finished filtering out about the same time. Leaving the main hall feeling far emptier even than it did on most days.

 

The 'Cage getting his butt arrested' excitement over with, the EMT triple team made their way back to the break room, prepping a nice round of ice-ing for the reigning Champion, and Johnny turned to a Drago who was eyeing the last couple fans still standing in the bleachers. Perhaps willing them to leave with the power of his _burning_ eyes alone.

"Hey, um, Drago?" The glinting eyes landed on him, most of the fire seemingly gone out. Good sign if he'd ever seen one. "Did you happen to catch what Puma said when Konnan dragged him off?" Drago gave a firm nod and angled his body for proper conversation, now ready to ignore the probably drunk folks security would be by to help out soon anyway.

"Puma dijo, 'Lo siento. Yo era un cobarde. No tuve la fuerza'- eh... 'I am sorry. I was a coward. No have strength enough to speak to'-" Johnny ducked to the side, just in case super hot sulfur bubbled out following that strained cough. Come to think of it; they hadn't seen much of the Dragon Luchador even after his return to the Temple some days ago.

"Are you alright? If you're still sick-"

"¡Drago!" Came a happy voice Johnny wasn't familiar with. Then bounced into view a masked Luchador he recognized as-

"Aero Star! Good to meet you! Johnny Mundo," he introduced himself, holding out a hand in case one of the only folks on the roster he had yet to meet wanted to shake. "I've seen all your-"

"¿Este es el gringo qué te enfermó?" The suddenly far less enthused fighter directed at Drago. Almost _pointedly_ not looking at the proffered mano as he seemed to scrutinize the rest of the considerably taller wrestler with the long hair.  
Wait, was he saying that _Johnny'd_ made Drago sick?

"Sí, pero no a propósito." And Drago was _agreeing_!?

"Hm. Alguien te empuja al punto de la enfermedad, _me_ responden." Ugh, it was kinda hard to keep up with the smooth back and forth. Too much Spanish for someone who really didn't get in enough practice with it.  
Come to think of it: that was the most naturally Johnny had heard Drago speak. It sounded as if-

"Aero," spoken with far more vocal control than he'd ever heard employed by the Dragon man. Almost as if he might have practiced it, diligently, for a long, _long_ time.  
Yep. They must have been well acquainted if the stiff Drago could be bothered to put _that_ much... feeling into a name.

"How long have you two known each other?" He couldn't help but ask, well aware that at least one of them would understand just fine. 

"Por cien décadas," said a Drago who wasn't taking his eyes off the newest member of the party.

"For a _hundred **decades**_?!" Johnny said it loud enough that it pulled Aero Star's attention away from the look the guy who was staring into his face was giving him. It all seemed kinda intense for work buddies.

"Si, Drago y yo somos maridos. Manos para ti, Mundo."  
<"Yes, Drago and I are....">

_Wow_ that was weird. It felt as if... Aero Star were speaking two languages at the same time. One Johnny _almost_ understoond just fine, and his native American English.  
Wait! Did the guy- Had Aero Star, the high flying Técnico from The Cosmos, just said that he and the Dragon from El Inframundo were _married_?!

"But your best out of five series!? Things are getting pretty brutal in the ring."

"Si, sabemos cómo hacer que se vea bien. ¿Verdad, Drago?"  
<"Yep, we know how to make it look good. Right, Drago?">  
Again in that weird stereo that made Johnny's ears feel as if they were each picking up on a different language at the _same time_. It almost tickled. Least his brain wasn't melting or anything.  
Aero Star scooted closer to the- his- to Drago and put an arm around his shoulders, almost as if trying to drive home what Johnny'd _thought_ the Space man might have said earlier: 'Hands to yourself, Mundo.'

Just then, Puma came jogging back from 'paperwork city', a bright grin breaking out across his face.

_"Hi, A-e-r-o! ... see you... Drago sick... J..._

Yeah, he wasn't gonna get all that. It probably wasn't actually his business anyway. Even if he was pretty sure he'd been mentioned in there somewhere.  
Oh, Drago was joining in! Managing to make ASL look almost like a sequence of coded threats, softening in some difficult to quantify way when directed specifically at his Aero Star.  
Man, that Dragon was intimidating! With those gnarly, sweet wings he kept reminding himself to pull closed, and all those scales he didn't usually have. It was like watching a special on the History channel.

Then Aero Star was speaking Spanish _obviously_ to the others and Johnny took the opportunity to just take in the sight of his friend, the Lucha Underground Champion, happy as a clam swapping some sort of _involved_ story with the reportedly **long** term couple.  
It'd been a while since he'd seen that many of Puma's teeth at once, peeking out from beneath his mask between a set of lips that- that he'd somehow gotten _his_ pushed up against! How had that happened again? And... why did staring at them now make him want to- why'd it make his lips tingle all over again. Why-  
And the others were giving him a collective strange look. Because he was stuck there, like some sort of blushing, six foot tall, alabaster statue. And they didn't see a lot of alabaster in the Temple.

Aero Star was the first to break the look, moving forward and extending a hand, ostensibly in peace. "Soy Aero Star. Complace hacer su conocimiento."  
<"I'm Aero Star. Pleased to make your acquaintance.">

Johnny shook the hand which gripped his with a firmer pump than he'd been expecting, and he felt his mouth break out in a smile at the fortunate turn of events.  
Looked like he'd made a new friend.

"Gracias por tratarlos bien. Lo siento por todos los problemas que la 'Máquina' ha causado."  
<"Thank you for treating them well. I am sorry for all the trouble this 'Machine' caused for you."> Aero ended the polite and thoughtful sentiment by striking a hero pose, with both arms akimbo, fists against his hips, and chin tilted slightly up.

"Uh, you're welcome- you're- ¡Usted es absolutamente bienvenido!" It came out a bit blurted, but Aero's approving look still deepened and the shorter fighter popped off a crisp salute before turning back to what -or _who_ \- appeared to be the most important thing in his life.

"Bien, Drago. ¿Suficiente emoción para una noche?" 

Drago nodded, waving a farewell to his friends Johnny and Puma, before putting a _spiked_ arm around the small of his partner's back. In response to Aero's snaking tenderly back over his shoulders.

"¿Quiere sopa para su garganta? ¿Me sopa especial?" 

Johnny had to physically hold back a reaction at just how obviously 'Yes, please!' Drago's _entire_ body looked as the couple turned a corner and went their way for the night.  
Those wings were extremely expressive.

 

The two Luchadores left standing in the center of the deserted main hall's vastness stood there, watching the after image of a couple who've purportedly known each other longer than many _countries_ have existed. Johnny was first to break the stillness.

"They look... good together."

Puma nodded, the move imbued with what might've been a wistful quality. Though, Johnny could have been projecting, just a tiny bit.

"I didn't know Drago had wings. Definitely didn't know he was _married_."

Puma shrugged, looking distracted, and turned to face the taller fighter full on. _"J, I'm sorry I-_

Johnny put a hand out and grabbed the closer of Puma's, feeling as if it was the right thing to do. The yellow clad Luchador's eyes widened but the hand twitched further into his grip, almost enough to be holding his back. 

"Drago told me some of what you said, and, though it means a _lot_ to me that you feel that way, I never held any of this against you." Yep, Puma was holding his hand. Johnny's lips quirked into a little smile. "Some horrible things happened-" Puma deadpanned a 'really' that wasn't fully directed at him. Johnny chuckled. "Yeah, _really_. But it wasn't our fault. You even... forgave me before- while it must've still looked like I was a lying sack of-"

_"Shut it, J."_ Puma signed, looking rather serious. _"We're friends- **b-e-s-t** friends,"_ he let go of Johnny's hand for that part of the sentence. Johnny wondered whether Puma's was still tingling. _"C-a-g-e is bad. We're good."_

Johnny couldn't help the wry smile in response. The knowledge that Puma'd simplified his sign as much as he could tickled his fondness center into overdrive.

_"J, we're good?"_

"Yeah, I think we are."

 

"Lemme guess; it took you idiotas so long 'cause you decided that a hot steamy make out session was more _important_ than getting medical-"

" _So_ glad you two were able to... kiss and make up. A lot of people never get the-"

"But they did, and _now_ you guys believe me! Only after seeing it for yourselves like that!? Why can't you just admit that I'm always right?!" Clara and Gabby, Federico joining in, went back and forth the moment the two fighters entered the break room. Going over every exposed inch of the Champ's abused body, and anywhere else Clara might've noticed getting slammed or crammed through the intense fight.

Then it was back to ice pack city, but this time, the EMT super stars stuck around past their clock out time. Not even griping over how they weren't getting paid overtime. Just... enjoying the sight of two Luchadores- two best friends, back together and obviously in love.  
Maybe Clara _was_ always right after all.

 

Konnan wasn't nearly as surprised as he felt he should have been, hearing the sounds of five of the last people in the Temple having a good time staying after hours. He peaked around the corner to see a bouncy EMT -Clara, was it?- sitting on the sofa next to a successful defending Underground Champ absolutely _draped_ over a blushing Johnny Mundo.  
At least they'd remembered the ice packs, he thought, shaking his head. Professionalism wasn't dead after all.

The coach turned, ready to take his leave of the Temple and allow the youngsters their fun.

"Konnan?" A call that stopped him in his tracks. Mundo'd found him out! "Come on in! We're... celebrating?" 

"Hear, hear!" Echoed out to tempt Konnan, who really should get home and give his cactus a few drops of water before it... died.

"Yeah, this police report is hilarious!" He heard coming from the one he was pretty sure was Gabby.

_"Stay a while, please?"_ How could he resist his protégé when the kid was so... happy? And dotted in freezing packs of-

"Don't get up, mijo. I'm coming," he said, decision made when the Champ'd started prying himself off his... 'friend's' _body_ , nearly dislodging a few ice packs and putting a look of worry on the glorified cushion's face.

Konnan took the overstuffed armchair that, uh, Federico vacated to offer him, and held a hand out to Gabby. "Let's see this 'informe hilarante'."

The sheets of paper were passed to him and everyone in the room giggled and snickered along as he read the entire thing half out loud, half to himself.  
He chuckled too, but seeing the details for himself, Konnan had to look at Johnny in a new light. The long haired gringo hadn't been lying, _and_ he'd **still** been trying his damnedest to make amends. 

The coach looked into the face of one who he'd thought for the longest time was out to get his protégé, and saw the Luchador for what he really was; a kind, caring soul.  
Well, if he could make Puma as happy as he sure as heck seemed to be in that moment, Konnan figured he better get used to having the extraño around.

He sent Johnny a nod, meant for him alone, and with the solemn one he received in return, he was pretty sure they were good. No hard feelings.

"This _is_ funny, but if you wanna hear something that'll really knock your socks off, listen up, kids!" 

The party lasted longer than he'd been planning on staying, Puma dozing off after a couple of long winded story swapping sessions between His mentor and the EMT team. The things you _see_ in that line of work.  
Johnny 'the Body Pillow' Mundo, nodded off not long after the anecdotes morphed themselves into being told in full on Spanish.  
Not long after that, Clara's eyes started drooping and Federico made the 'grownup' decision that it was time to call it a night.

"Gotta return that ambulance, after all. Real glad it wasn't needed tonight," the last said with a serious glance in both the sleeping Puma, and Konnan's directions.

"You and me both, amigo," the retired Luchador informed. Pointedly _not_ reaching up to run ginger fingers over the stitches which were due out any time now.

The three left, quiet goodbyes reverb-ing down the hall pleasantly as they marched on out.

Konnan double checked that all the melted cold packs had indeed been removed from the Prince's worn out weapon of a body. Noticing while he did that the closer of the kid and Mundo's hands were held in each other's.  
Yeesh! Even sleeping they were sappy. 

Hoping that didn't become a regular 'thing' during work hours, the crusty old softy yanked an old throw blanket off the back of the couch and draped it best he could over the two... novios? Eewgh. He wasn't gonna call them that. _**Way**_ too sappy.  
For now, they'd just be _his_ fighters.

And if his fighters snuggled a little closer, and the sound of purring could be picked out over the breathing of deep sleep, Konnan elected to ignore the sappiness and just smiled. Happy that the two had finally found each other.

"Ai, niños.

**Author's Note:**

> Though this may be the end, dear reader/s, there be no need for long farewells. Prince Puma and Johnny Mundo shall be enjoying at least one more hurrah in the form of a Bonus chapter I have all but finished.  
> Until then, I hope that this installment lived up to some expectations and brought love into your hearts and smiles onto your wonderful faces!  
> Sincerely,  
> ~Anonymous


End file.
